


All's Fair in Love and War

by fuzzybatbutts



Series: Lessons To Be Learned [1]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games), Titanfall (Video Games)
Genre: AMAB Bloodhound, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Dubious Consent, Graphic Description, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Not Ashamed, I'm Sorry, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Non-Consensual Touching, Other, Smut, Whump, problematic uwu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 22:58:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18433856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzybatbutts/pseuds/fuzzybatbutts
Summary: Elliot's heard of the hunter Bloodhound, but always hoped he'd never be on the end of their knife. Unfortunately, you don't always get what you wish for.





	All's Fair in Love and War

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE PLEASE READ!!
> 
> So my beta and I have a discord now!! It's specifically for fans of apex who love dark fiction, so if you like this series it'll be right up your alley!! It was created since I got booted from an apex server for posting noncon so it's to protect us fans who the purity police deem problematic. Nothing is too far and there's specifically a blacklist channel for those of us who love the nastiest of the nasty. :D if the link doesnt cooporate, lemme know and I'll find a way to send it to you ^^  
> https://discord.gg/xNkTyCV
> 
>  
> 
> Seriously if you don't like mature stuff don't read. If you want something fluffy I have a nice fluff fic called Bar Night that's more your style. It's more noncon to dubcon to yes please, but there's not a tag for that.

Elliot pushed his back further into the concrete wall behind him clutching his gun with both hands in an iron grip. He could feel the bullets spraying against the wall on the other side and saw even more whizzing over his head. They’d run into a full squad in a bad spot, desert sand in every direction and only a few small houses to duck into which offered little protection due to the windows in every wall. Sweat was dripping down his back under the oppressive heat, mixed with the nerves it was almost unbearable. If he moved away from the wall he’d be ripped apart, if he stayed he risked being flanked and getting ripped apart from both sides. He’d found the rock and didn’t know if the hard place was any better. Listening for a break in fire was pointless since whenever one took a moment to reload, another would keep up the barrage. He looked around for his squadmates, but they were just has pinned as he was. Wraith was hunkered down in the building and Pathfinder had grappled his way up trying to get the advantage of height but hadn’t been seen or heard from since. Elliot wouldn’t put money on him still being alive since the enemies third squadmate hadn’t made an appearance from what he could tell. It sounded like the same two guns being fired, one energy and one heavy, meaning zero chance of him getting out unscathed. 

_ “C’mon, c’mon!” _

He tapped the gadgets sticking out from his suit begging them to recharge faster. He had only a few more seconds but if they pushed before that it was over. He barely had half a magazine and no charge on his shields left to absorb a few hits if he needed to get away. Even if he did the rounds wouldn’t make it through their body armor assuming he landed every shot perfectly. Wraith peeked her head into the window and caught Elliot’s eyes. Gesturing wildly with her hands he caught that she was planning on running. The movements were directed a large sand dune which would at least give them some high ground. If she could disappear she’d have an out and hopefully he could follow her if she could draw the fire away. Tapping his suit and holding up fingers in response, she nodded and moved towards the door. When his suit lit up he knew he finally had a charge and possibly a way out of this mess. Desperate and out of breath he pushed the hologram so it charged out of cover and looked like he was making a break to some rocks further in the opposite direction. It worked and drew the gunfire towards it like a charm. The door behind him creaked as Wraith poked her head out and waved him on towards the dunes. Setting up a portal was their best way out if she could make it and they could toss a grenade through to give them even more time to run. Wraith wasn’t more than a half step through the door when a single crack rang through the air. There was no time to yell for her to duck or sidestep and he watched helplessly as the bullet punched through her eye and sent her body backwards with the force of the blast. They had a sniper, hidden somewhere in front of the wall who must have been waiting for them to try something. Time wasn’t on his side and he knew it was pointless to grab the banner since he’d be directly in the line of fire and had no clue where the shot had come from. He clasped his hand over his mouth to muffle his cries and sent a silent prayer for forgiveness upwards before turning and putting all his remaining energy into sprinting away as fast as he could manage. Two more cracks rang in his ears but they didn’t land anywhere near him. Despite it being foolish he spared a moment to glance backwards and to his surprise see the two gunmen drop to the ground with holes ripped into their guts. 

_ “Pathfinder! He must have taken them out after they shot Wraith!” _

That had to be it he reasoned, it didn’t make sense why they’d spared him to cut down the other two otherwise. The archways cut into the canyon walls were just up ahead past the dunes. If he could get to the pit he stood a greater chance of finding at least something he could use to get himself back in the game, and if he was lucky, push back and grab the banner. He’d be able to hear people coming from the two entrances and could hold out there until the ring forced him elsewhere or until the could revive Wraith safely. His lungs felt like they were on fire and his legs burned with the sudden exertion but he steeled himself and kept going. If luck stayed on his side Pathfinder would have seen him leave and follow closely behind so he’d have another pair of eyes to watch for enemy squads. Seeing the stone hallway only meters ahead he poured on a final burst of speed and made a move to grab his gun in case there were unwelcome visitors who’d had the same idea. When he heard an all too familiar crack sound from behind him his heart sank. The fear turned into searing pain when he watched the bullet tear through his forearm and heard one of the bones break with a loud crunch, exploding out the otherside in a spray of blood. 

The force behind the shot pushed him off balance and he staggered, foot catching in a crevice and twisting painfully to the right. He fell, grinding his teeth together and forcing himself to haul forward using his good arm and leg to push. The fall had thrown him forward into the shadows of the hallway and despite knowing he stood no chance with his shooting arm in tatters he had to at least try. Giving up wasn’t an option, he wasn’t going to die and leave his mother alone without at least making it harder for the enemy to find him. Decoys burst out from every direction as he crawled, barely hidden by the cloaking device attached to his suit. Blood was pouring out his arm and he could hear it rushing through his ears as it drowned out the sounds of him groaning in pain. Another noise however, slowly growing louder, was coming up behind him. Footsteps? No, he realized. Breathing, slow, delibrite, mechanical breathing, muffled under something. It grew louder as it echoed under the stone and Elliot knew he didn’t want to find the source or have it anywhere near him. 

Crawling must have looked pitiful but the fear rising in his gut replaced any worry about his fans thinking he looked stupid. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed the footsteps until a boot stepped into the dirt by his head. The fire in his blood turned to ice, the air suddenly crushed from his chest when the second boot pressed into his back. On Solace he’d seen children with bugs pinned to cork boards as a collection. He understood how those insects must have felt. Despite the aching in his neck, he turned his head to the side to try look up at the hands he was sure he’d die from. Grey stained glass looked back, dead, and empty. Every inch of his attacker was covered in leather or wrapped in cloth dyed a deep green. Clusters of bolts and wire hung from its head that swayed as they tilted their head sideways, cocking their head in an almost childlike gesture of curiosity. Elliot knew that face; he’d seen it on posters and heard it in the drunken gossip of bar patrons. The legendary tracker who’d been terrorizing the arena from the shadows and who’d never been seen without their mask. Who’d never even taken or missed a hit or showed panic in the most dire situations. Bloodhound, the champion Elliot had prayed he’d never meet. 

Fingers wormed their way into his hair and Elliot was dragged deeper into the pit by the surprisingly strong tracker. For a moment he hoped the attacker would just rip out his hair and he could find a way, some way, to get far away and hide. He slapped feebly at the hand but had no strength to get rid of it and his head was just wrenched forward painfully. There was nothing he could do aside from spit the grass out of his mouth and push down the urge to sob, to ask the phantom to leave him alone and haunt someone else. Light from the open ceiling of the pit filtered in and the sounds of struggling bounced off the walls. In another show of surprising strength Bloodhound hauled Elliot up with one hand and pushed his face against the cool rock. Weight on his ankle sent shocks of pain up his leg causing it to wobble uncontrollably, but if he didn’t stand it put weight on his neck as he was still being held by the hair like a doll. “Please, look I don’t know who you are, but please just let me g-”

_ Crack! _

Stars shot across his eyes as his face was pushed aggressively into the rock wall, nose breaking on impact and blood pouring down his face. His vision grew red around the edges and he prayed he’d just black out so he wouldn’t have to deal with any more pain inflicted on him. Whatever Gods existed either weren’t paying attention or didn’t care, but he got the message Bloodhound was communicating. He bit the inside of his cheek and clamped his mouth shut. His mind wouldn’t stop racing, coming up with every horrid possibility he could imagine. It wasn’t common for legends to get creative with how they killed but it also wasn’t unheard of. If the champion wanted to draw attention from the crowd they got gruesome. Audiences loved it. The more disgusting the better. It had gone so far as the ones hosting the games had begun leaving knives or pipes in drop boxes to encourage more brutal encounters. Elliot guessed that watching people get mowed down had lost its lustre after the first hundred games or so. 

But it didn’t explain why Bloodhound was taking so long to act, or why he’d dragged him into the shadows. The whole canyon was under surveillance but there were select nooks and crannies where blind spots existed if you knew where to look. If he wanted to be flashy he’d have pulled him into the middle of a field and gutted him there where all could see. Why Bloodhound hadn’t executed him immediately was puzzling already since although the hound’s skill was unparalleled it was rather simplistic and designed to not draw attention. It promoted whispers and rumors, inspiring fear and making legends nervous if they knew he’d be on the battlefield that day. The thought of fear sparked something that made his stomach turn. He’d heard from hunters that the animals they killed tasted better if they were scared. 

Something clicked from behind him. Elliot turned his head and saw that Bloodhound had removed the bottom part of their mask. The skin looked gaunt and was paper white, marred by a dark red scar that cut across their mouth and snaked back up under the mask. They were smiling. Quickly Elliot turned his head back to the rocks unwilling to look at the smile any longer. It wasn’t a smile any person could make. It was the smile of a beast. 

Hot air blew on the back of his neck raising goosebumps all down his arms and legs. Although he couldn’t see, Elliot knew Bloodhound was breathing down his neck and probably relishing the frightened whimpers he couldn’t contain any longer. Something primal in his gut screamed, terrified of dying or being humiliated even further. He tried to lurch sideways, anything to get away but the hound saw him shift and was faster. In the blink of an eye they’d grabbed his good arm and yanked him back before pulling the arm high above his head. They kept it against the rock and Elliot looked in horror as they drew a wicked looking knife from their belt and stabbed it through his hand into a crack in the rock. This time he didn’t even bother to try to hold the scream in, instead letting it tear through his throat and ring through the air. With his hand pinned he couldn’t turn around, only push his against the rock harder and will himself to disappear. 

He felt hands, slow and delicate, sliding up his back and along his sides that curled inwards and ran over his chest the higher they got. An uncomfortable weight pressed against his back as Bloodhound got closer, their mouth brushing the skin of Elliot’s neck and holding him against them. One of their hands snaked up and around his throat, pinning his broken arm to his side and lightly putting pressure around his neck. Bloodhound squeezed as they pressed their lips gently to his skin, leaving a soft trail of kisses down the side and towards his shoulder. Elliot let a sigh escape his mouth seemingly against his will and swore he felt Bloodhound smile against his skin. A part of him felt disgusted and abused still demanding he rip his hand from the knife and run again, while the other part deep in his gut found some sick sense of pleasure from the scene. It was easier to focus on the burning under his skin from the kisses and hand grabbing at his hips than it was to think about the agony pulsing up his broken arm and the blood seeping from his ruined hand. Easier to think about how he wished the hunter would move their hand just a bit lower and push against his throat more than to picture Wraith’s brains painting the floor and sands a deep red. 

Bloodhound squeezed Elliot’s throat harder and pulled his hips back so they could grind against his ass. Their hand seemed to forcibly choke out more whimpers and moans the harder they squeezed and pressed against him. Combined with the gentle kisses it was almost too much. His sense of touch seemed to heighten with each kiss making every touch that followed more intense to the point he had to use every last ounce of his will to push down the need to just ask the hunter to take him there. The voice that was outraged was quickly being silenced. Elliot figured if he was going to die something good might as well happen first. He’d been with men before, but he knew Bloodhound didn’t really fit that category and they called themself something else that he couldn’t remember. It was incredibly hard to think when he could barely breathe and couldn’t focus on much else than the hand gently stroking him through the thin fabric of his pants. The hard bulge pressing into him with an almost insistent need only made matters worse. “Please…”

Elliot turned his head to stare back into the dead eyed lenses of the hunter, “Please, don’t stop.” 

Bloodhound cocked their head slightly again as they pulled back, probably confused at the reaction they were eliciting that was so different from sheer terror. But if they were they didn’t show it, only smiling wider and moving their hand from his front into the waistband of his pants as they pulled them down. Elliot almost cried out when Bloodhound pushed against him again, the heat of their skin and size surprising him. With their free hand they wiped some of the blood away that was still oozing from his arm pinned above him and he heard them spit into their hand. He braced against the wall as much as he could without sending a wave of pain through his nose and pushed against the hand at his neck harder. Trying to relax was impossible. He was full of adrenaline, too hopped up on pain and fear to care much either. 

Bloodhound was surprisingly gentle to start, guiding themselves and pushing against his ass slowly. The blood and spit made their cock slick and slide in easily. It still hurt, the burning pain mixed with everything else that ached or screamed but it only added to the pleasure when Bloodhound removed their glove and slipped down the front of his pants. They rocked against Elliot slow, easing him in to start. With each push in they slid their hand up and down and panted against his neck. Elliot sighed and leaned back as best he could without tugging on his hand. It felt amazing. Sparks danced under his skin and he felt heat growing inside him, getting more intense by the second. Bloodhound however, seemingly bored of the slow pace began to speed up. They went harder and harder, the sounds as they slapped against Elliot’s ass echoing off the walls. 

With each thrust he was pushed against the wall, arms aching and legs growing more unsteady. Pain wracked his body as much as pleasure did, and the sounds that came from his mouth were divine. Everything hurt but also felt so good, better than any of the men and women he’d brought home before. Teeth sunk into the back of his neck, biting down hard and piercing through the skin. It tore away the last remaining air he had left and left him gasping, tears running down his face when the sensation was too much. He wanted to tell them to stop since it was all too much. The hand stroking him in all the right aways, him getting fucked like an animal in heat as others died all around around him, the ferocity that practically poured off the hunter and made him feel weak. This person couldn’t be real. Not with the way they crashed against him or dug their fingers so tightly against his throat he felt it would break. The bite was a claiming mark and he knew it would scar with the way they kept sinking their teeth deeper into his flesh. Even if he made it out alive he’d be marked, owned and claimed as property. Even if he lived, nothing could compare to this. 

Elliot stopped holding back and came with a choked moan, pushed completely off the edge. Bloodhound didn’t stop even when the stimulation was so intense it hurt. Their thrusts sped up until they finally came fully pushed inside him. He could feel the cum drip down his thighs as they pulled out and let go of their hold on his neck. He winced as he felt the teeth pull from his skin and blood run down and stain the collar of his shirt. Bloodhound stepped away to collect themself and Elliot for a moment was left to his thoughts. Everything was on fire, his nerves felt like they’d exploded and his legs could barely support his weight anymore. He looked up as the knife was pulled from the stone and he fell hard against the ground. Those same dead lenses looked down but with a thin stream of blood running down their chin and coating their teeth. Coming back to reality a deep sense of dread filled his stomach. Now that he’d fulfilled his usefulness, would he finally die? Would they put a slug between his eyes and be done with him? 

A phoenix kit plunked to the ground in front of him, along with the knife he’d had stuck through his hand. Confused, he looked up to see Bloodhound had already walked away with their rifle in hand, no doubt off to chase down some other prey they’d spotted in the distance. Elliot sat in wonder for a moment, unsure of what to do. Deciding he had no better choice he grabbed the kit and turned it on crawling away towards the pit, hoping he could hide out until it was over. 

**Author's Note:**

> So I have no regrets. I've definitely done worse (Supernatural fanfiction that gets REAL NASTY) so honestly this is on the tamer end of things. If you're here and didn't head the warnings don't get mad at me because I have two archive warnings plus the tags. IDK if you have requests (more fucked up the better) I'm happy to do them cuz I'm rusty and need to get back into the swing of things. 
> 
> Cheers


End file.
